A Quote by Martin Clunes

My horses make very silly faces when I'm preparing their meals. — © Martin Clunes
My horses make very silly faces when I'm preparing their meals.
One way to begin to see how vastly indulgent we usually are is to fast. It is a long day that is not broken by the usual three meals. One finds out what an astonishing amount of time is spent in the planning, purchasing, preparing, eating, and cleaning up of meals.
Meals make the society, hold the fabric together in lots of ways that were charming and interesting and intoxicating to me. The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that frequently has very little to do with the food itself.
It really isn't very glamorous to sing because you have to make all these funny faces to make it sound like the record. You really want to sound the best you can so you have to make all these disgusting faces.
Not all horses are going to be show jumpers, not all horses are going to be dressage horses. So you have to sort of find where the horse physically fits into what might suit him, but all horses can be comfortable and all horses can have good, solid fundamentals.
We can smile, breathe, walk, and eat our meals in a way that allows us to be in touch with the abundance of happiness that is available. We are very good at preparing to live, but not very good at living. We know how to sacrifice ten years for a diploma, and we are willing to work very hard to get a job, a car, a house, and so on. But we have difficulty remembering that we are alive in the present moment, the only moment there is for us to be alive. Every breath we take, every step we make, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.
Home is a place in the mind. When it is empty, it frets. It is fretful with memory, faces and places and times gone by. Beloved images rise up in disobedience and make a mirror for emptiness. Then what resentful wonder, and what half-aimless seeking. It is a silly state of affairs. It is a silly creature that tries to get a smile from even the most familiar and loving shadow. Comical and hopeless, the long gaze back is always turned inward.
Sometimes I'll post goofy photos of myself on Instagram without make-up or making silly faces. I don't always look like a little Barbie doll.
As a working mother of a large family, preparing meals and shopping for groceries is time consuming and hard work.
The corncob was the central object of my life. My father was a horse handler, first trotting and pacing horses, then coach horses, then work horses, finally saddle horses. I grew up around, on, and under horses, fed them, shoveled their manure, emptied the mangers of corncobs.
I started preparing meals for my family when I was 12 because both of my parents worked, but I didn't know that it was something I could make a career out of until I had my daughter and realized there were people out there who were interested in learning how to prepare a quick meal.
Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
There is no occasion when meals should become totally unimportant. Meals can be very small indeed, very inexpensive, short times taken in the midst of a big push of work, but they should be always more than just food.
I had a moment where I realised I could do silly voices, that lots of people I knew couldn't do silly voices, and that thus I must be able to make money doing silly voices.
It's silly to work hard the whole week and then spoil it by not preparing properly before the game.
I think my instinct creatively is to make things that are very funny and happy and silly. And in this moment where the world is very scary, I feel like my role is to make people laugh really hard.
There are friends and faces that may be forgotten, but there are horses that never will be.
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